See The World Around Ya Boy (And Learn To Use A Gun)
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: Dean's first time in a bar. Ellen POV.


A/N So, for those of you waiting for another chapter for JNSQ, I'm a little behind and under the weather:( so that won't be up till maybe tomorrow. Here's a oneshot for your troubles! :)

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The day Dean Winchester walked into the Roadhouse, the sky was clear and blue.

It was washday, the only other reason the day stood out in Ellen's memory. Every few days, the glasses needed to be wiped down, removing streaks and spots unavoidable in a bar. Jo was too young to help out yet, so Ellen took on the workload single handedly, husband's death fresh but hidden in everything she did.

She got through. It was what everyone expected of her, and it's what she did. She was Ellen, anything else unacceptable.

She didn't recognize Dean at first, the irony of it astounding later. Winchesters, or at least one in particular, weren't allowed in the Roadhouse. How one had snuck past her was unimaginable.

The door swung open and closed around three, not an unusual time to drink, but stranded a little between the night time drinkers and the closed morning hours. A lightly muscled teen stood there, sharp features and graceful movements standing out as he slowly strode into the bar.

He had crew-cut blonde hair, set off by a black t shirt that emphasized well developed muscles. He was nowhere close to being an adult, but by his arrogant swagger, he'd never let you think that.

Not a lot of people were in the bar then, save a couple of old men playing bridge in the corner and Steve, who sat at the end of the bar nursing his fifth drink of the hour.

Ellen ignored the boy as he walked up, wiping down the glasses methodically. He might not be old enough to drink, but he was sure as hell old enough to cause a scene. She mentally cataloged where she kept the shotgun, knowing it would be just next to her knee where it always was.

"Hey, darlin'" a voice said off to her right, not drawing her attention off of the glass she was polishing. "What'dya got on tap?"

Turning, she saw his face close up, a pair of clear, sharp-looking green eyes nestled in a pale, pretty face gazing back at her. Ellen had never described a man as pretty, but the high cheekbones and plush lips made her rethink a lot of things.

Like hell was he old enough to be in a bar.

"What can I help you with?" She asked, eyeing his face. There was no nervous tells on his face, just an almost blatant self-assuredness.

As if it were her luck to get stuck with a cocky minor, not just a stupid kid trying to score a drink.

"A beer, first." He said, smiling devilishly. "Maybe something else later." He said, body language synchronized and graceful as he shifted on the old leather barstool, t shirt tightening along with his movements.

If Ellen had been any other kind of person, she would've thrown him out of her bar the second she'd faced him. But one of the reasons the Roadhouse was so popular tied in with Ellen's ability to field her customers.

"A beer?" She asked, putting on a bored, compliant expression. He nodded at her like she was simple, cocky stare unyielding. He looked like he expected her to get on her knees and lick his shoes clean.

"Lemme see your ID." She told him, still polishing the glass. She gave him a dismissive glance, innately knowing this was the first test. To his credit, his facial expression didn't change, but he didn't move, eyes going blank for a second.

"No ID?" She asked after a moment of silence. "What a shame."

His features rippled slightly, morphing into a different kind of smile. He leaned forward, trying to find a nametag or some other personal thing. She long ago learned about the people like that, the ones who thought if they knew your name all was well.

"Don't need no ID." He said after his subtle investigation yielded nothing. Giving her a predatory smile, he let his only semi-believable accent twang even further.

"Just a beer." He said, giving her a glance that probably would've made a high school girl drop her pants in a second, green eyes staring into her own while he chewed on his lower lip in a way she guessed he thought was seductive.

Too bad she wasn't a high school chick.

"Son," She said, leaning in, having enough and putting her glass down. "I'm gonna let you in on a secret." Letting her words hang there, she saw his eyes light up in curiosity.

Maybe he hadn't scored beer before?

She gestured for him to lean forward, putting a hand on the tap like she was thinking about giving him a glass. Cocky little bastard he was, he even snuck a look under her tank top before leaning in, victory flashing through the green orbs.

"There's this big thing," She whispered into his ear, all serious sounding. "All the rage in America."

She paused. "Wanna know what it is?"

His breath became more shallow, only slightly so, but she knew in an instant this was the first time he'd come close to scoring a beer.

"What?" He whispered back, green eyes wide.

She paused before responding, letting the tension build. His eyes darted back and forth between her hand and her face.

"No drinking before you're twenty-one." She finally said, allowing herself a smirk as his eyes widened even further in anger and he pulled away.

"I'm twenty two!" He said loudly, getting odd looks from the other patrons in return.

Ellen nodded sarcastically. "Sure, hon. Hey, you got a little bit of wetness behind your ears there." She snarked. "Want a little help?"

His handsome face darkened in embarrassment and anger as he slid off the barstool, all cocky hips and danger. "You'll pay for this." He muttered.

Ellen raised an eyebrow. "Pay? That a threat, boy?" She asked, emphasis on the 'boy'.

He strode out of the bar, bowlegs attracting the attention of everyone in the room. Ellen took a breath as he passed the door, usual calm settling back over her once again.

* * *

He came back. The persistent ones always did.

About a week later, a familiar cocky teenager made his way up to her bar. She couldn't say she'd forgotten him completely. A lot of people moved in and out of the Roadhouse, but arrogant pretty green-eyed boys weren't exactly common. So, she wasn't completely surprised when the door was thrown open and a not as impressive as he thought boy walked in.

He walked in like he wished all of the eyes were on him, and maybe they were in other places, but in a hunter's bar in the middle of nowhere pretty boys weren't stared at. It was just the way it was.

"Am I gonna have to kick you out?" She asked, cocking a hip and glaring at him. "It's not like you aged four years overnight."

"Hey!" He said, greeting her jovially. "What a coincidence. I'd just forgotten my ID last week. Good thing I found it, huh?"

Oh boy.

She nodded at him. "You have your ID now?"

He smiled at her again, all white teeth and pink lips. "Sure do."

She held her hand out expectantly, undecided about whether or not he was lying yet.

He dug around in his pockets, too-tight t shirt riding up a little and exposing muscled, flat abs. What surprised her were the scars, not unlike the ones she saw on hunters here. She only saw a flash, but the smooth, pale skin was split in some areas, a wide scar still pink slicing down to his hipbone.

"Here it is." He said, producing a wallet after a few seconds. Folding it open with much ceremony, he slid out a brand new ID, polished and displaying a picture of the boy.

Ellen's heart paused as she read the last name.

Collecting herself, she didn't let her shock show as she gave the ID a nod. "Dean, is it?"

He smirked, victory once again flashing in his eyes. Wisely, he didn't tip his hand yet. "Is that satisfactory?"

She gave his ID another look, like she hadn't already thought it was a fake.

Which it totally was. The ID looked too fresh; print still looking a little wet and the colors a little too bright.

"You get a new ID, Dean?" She asked after a second. His confused glance only made her smile even more on the inside. Didn't the boy know what a new ID looked like to bartenders?

"Yeah. Lost mine last week." He fibbed, green eyes flicking towards the new ID with minute confusion.

"Ah." She said, pausing again just to frustrate him. "So you're really twenty two?"

Dean smirked. "Do I look like I would lie?"

That actually got a quick chuckle out of her. "Honest opinion?" She asked the boy, whose facial expressions were still a mixture of arrogance and minute worry.

He nodded seriously.

"Hell yeah. Now get outta my bar and don't come back."

His face crumpled again, and she steeled herself for the begging.

"C'mon!" He said loudly. "It's just a beer lady, Jesus. What the hell crawled up your ass?"

She looked at him darkly. "Go ask your father. Tell him Ellen says hi."

He looked even more confused, and suspicion slowly crept onto his face. "How do you know my father?" He asked indignantly, tone getting deeper and posture straighter.

She fixed him with her best glare. "Get out."

He looked around at the bar as if for the first time, eyes widening slightly as he saw the other customers.

There weren't many, but if one knew how to look, there were many distinguishable features. All the hunters wore the heavy material jackets and clothing, boots and jeans sticking out to someone who was used to looking for them. All the men looked a little world weary, nursing beers as they talked over papers with strange writing on them.

Dean saw all this, turning back to Ellen with a slightly gaping mouth.

"This a hunting bar?" He asked, eyes wide, cocky arrogance gone.

She gave him a small smile, enjoying his revelation.

"There's only one hunting bar." He stated, coming to a realization.

She leaned forward, savoring the drama.

"Winchester, get your ass outta my bar."

He flinched a little bit and nearly fell off the barstool, pulling himself together enough to walk out the door, cocky gait gone, replaced with the one of someone used to following orders.

She didn't know if he'd ever come back.

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A/N Review?:)


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